


Solitude

by azure_frost



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, Brothers, Canon-Typical Violence, Electrocution, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Missing Persons, Protective Older Brothers, Psychological Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:28:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29029464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azure_frost/pseuds/azure_frost
Summary: Memories are fletting things, here one second and gone the next. Forget long enough and you won't even look.Forget too long, and they may just come back to haunt you- stealing a little brother in the process.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. The White Room

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work and first TMNT fic! A few things to be aware of before you start:  
> 1\. This is an AU- the turtles have been recreated in my image and in this new world. A few characters you know from previous gens will appear, but overall this is different from past versions.  
> 2\. I will always place warnings for intense scenes in notes!  
> 3\. Comments give me serotonin.  
> 4\. Weekly updates on Wedsendays (hopefully- I'm in college, things may be put on hold in favor of studies). 
> 
> Thank you so much for taking a chance on this fic and I hope you grow to love these boys as much as I do!
> 
> Warning: chapter has needles and restraints.

The first thing that broke through the thick cloud in Mikey's mind was a distant beeping. It struggled against the fog, a rhythmic sound that battled the hazey visions of shadows and managed to latch on to a very buried memory.

_"It's a what?" Mikey hums, trying to appear interested in his older brother's fast paced rambling._

_He didn't have to pretend to be interested- anything Donnie said was fascinating to his tympanums. When they were kids, the Ringed-Map Turtle would shove books with torn pages under his nose and point out all the wondrous things the surface had to offer. Mikey could listen to Donnie talk for hours, but today he was sore and tired. The trip to the dump was far longer than his older brother had originally planned and Mikey's usual enthusiasm was dull and underwhelming._

_"It's a heart monitor!" Donnie explains, his excitement at the Mikey level versus his monotone analyses. It was weird seeing the shift in dynamics, but joy was blooming in Mikey's chest at seeing Donnie so animated, "do you know how lucky we are to find it? I mean, we never get injuried enough to really need one, but it's something that doesn't just fall through the grates into the sewers, you know? And it works!" He exclaims, like a mad scientist, the loud screech of the monitor turning on making Mikey wince. Donnie's quick to flip it off after the loud noise assaults the quiet med bay, turning to Mikey with a guilty smile, "sorry, I didn't expect it to go off like that."_

_" 's okay," Mikey mutters, head resting against his arms as the chair he sits on squeaks from the shift in weight. The front half of his body was complete weighing down the only table in the room, the rest of the space a cluttered mess of medical based machines that Donnie either made from scratch or magically found in one of the many dumps of New York. Most of them collected dust, the family never getting injuried beyond a bruise or scrape, but it was something that provided a small piece of comfort. Knowing that if any of them did suffer something fatal, there was still a fighting chance._

_Last Mikey recalled, the heart monitor had been shoved into another corner, a thin layer of dust accumulating on the machine. It had been used once to test, Raph begrudgingly sitting still for the few minutes Donnie needed to play with the machine, but the beeping was never heard from again, an echo of the past and fears yet to show._

So why was it suddenly on? And why did Mikey's head feel stuffed with cotton, his thoughts fluffy and hard to grasp? And he was so thirsty, even his skin had gotten to the point of being itchy, a sign he needed to take an hour off to rest in the tank.

But his body was so heavy, like his blood was replaced with cement and he didn't have the energy to move. Was /he/ the one hooked up to the monitor? Mikey doesn't remember getting hurt. It isn't until he finally lifts his hand that he realizes something heavy and cold was around his wrist.

Mikey's eyes snap open at that, the fog and cold driven out of his mind as he bolts to sit up. His beak snaps in pain as his hands remain stuck on the cold metal slab, his body stopping at an awkward 30° angle. His legs were immobilized as well, ankles locked into place by the metal cuffs, matching the ones around his wrist. The heart monitor speeds up rapidly, panic setting in as he realizes he wasn't in the med bay- he wasn't even home. White dots creep along the side of his vision and his chest tightens to the point he can't breath.

Too many thoughts were bouncing around his head, his senses suddenly overwhelmed by everything around him. Where were his brothers? Were they safe? Where was he and how did he even get here? Why did the air smell like chemicals and why was the world so white and bright?

The lights above him hum and flicker, washing the room in an aggressive glow and forcing him to squint his eyes. The action grounds him slightly, and he remembers that panic won't help him in this situation.

" _Panic leads to a clouded mind and rash decisions," Splinter warns, kneeling in front of his sons. His ears twitch slightly at the faint sigh from his second oldest, Raph's fingers tapping against his knees. The other three sons never had an issue with the meditation training, but Raph was always itching to move and preferred the more physical aspects of ninjutsu, "and patience is also a very important virtue."_

_The Mata Mata turtle had the decency to look slightly ashamed at the warning._

_The tree that miraculously grew from the cement ground of the sewer spreads out behind Sensei Splinter, a dark green broken by the red banner on the far wall. Mikey couldn't see the banner through the leaves, but he had memorized the circular logo ages ago, gold thread still vibrant from the gentle care at the hands of their sensei. A few years back he had taken the time to show Mikey how to care for it, and the young turtle had taken it upon himself to restitch the frays whenever he noticed._

_A small part of himself had taken part in creating the piece, and Mikey would always cherish that the responsibility had fallen on him. It was an honor that no one else was taught._

The heart monitor still beeped at an alarming rate, but the weight on his chest lightens as his breathing falls back to a relatively normal pace. Mikey is still forced to squint however, twisting his neck in an attempt to shield himself from the bright lights. Never had his eyes been forced to deal with something of this aggression. New York was lit by neons and stars trapped in glass while the sewers glowed with gentle lamps and pale, flickering lights.

Mikey found himself unable to really concentrate on anything besides the harsh lights and almost misses the soft click of a door opening.

"Oh no, his vitals are going crazy!" Someone points out nervously, rapid footsteps approaching Mikey. The panic he had managed to control spikes, eyes flying open as he instinctively jerks up to get away. Pain runs up his arms like a bolt of lightning, a dull throb in his shoulder that forces a sharp yelp of pain out of his chest. The lights were still too bright, too overwhelming, and all he can make out through a hazy layer of tears is curly black hair and a dark hand pressing buttons on the monitor.

'Get away!' He wanted to yell, but the panic closed his throat and the words didn't pass his tongue. He refused to cry, to show weakness, but it was so hard to hide his blinding fear.

"We need to put him back under, use one of your tranquilizer things or something!" The woman says feverishly, but the response to her request is a frustrated sigh. The lights suddenly shut off, Mikey turning away and closing his eyes at the sudden shift. He blinks to clear his vision and is finally able to see, the only light coming from the fixture on the far wall.

"He was just agitated by the lights," the second person says briskly, "he also woke up tied to a medical table, I would panic, too."

The Hawkbill turtle was finally able to see the full extent of his surroundings, eyes scanning the room to see that there was another examination table- luckily empty, indicating that maybe his brothers are safe. Everything was a blaring white, except for the harsh metals of sharp tools that sent a jolt of fear down Mikey's spine. None of them were stained with blood yet, but they looked ready to be used within seconds, resting on the table maybe a foot away. Machines, some Mikey recognized from Donnie's labs and others new, were shiny and clean, ready to be used. The walls were the same white as the ceiling and floor, broken by a mirror that showed Mikey looking terrified.

Every muscle in his body was tense, strained against the restraints and shaking under the pressure. His eyes were wide and almost all white, dilated in pure terror. He wasn't like humans- he didn't pale or change colours, but he was sure the pigmentation of his brown scales had dropped, the softer yellow leaning towards a white. His gear was missing, making him feel completely vulnerable and exposed. His knee pads, the elbow pads and the wraps that stabilized his joints had vanished, showing the old cuts and scrapes he gained during their first days of training. The black cover they used to mask his bioluminescence shell was discarded, exposing his carapace and the belt used to hold his dual nunchaku had been taken, his weapons along with them.

Nothing hurt more than seeing that they had taken the orange mask. It was his original, the one first given to him after turning eleven and what branded him as a member of his family. The fabric had been a comfort and represented more than just an orange band. It was what made him Mikey, what made him part of the Hamato Clan. Without it... he wasn't sure who he was.

And finally he lands on the two people who entered.

The woman playing with his device was in a lab coat, her shoulders relaxing as his vitals returned to a more normal range. The heart rate was still spiked, but she must have attributed it to his fear versus an actual medical concern. She releases a sigh, curly black hair pulled into a messy ponytail and dark skin on her hands scarred by sharp claws. Mikey had been scratched enough by Raph to know what those raised bumpy scars look like. She smoothes her lap coat and Mikey realizes that she must have rushed in, dark circles under brown eyes indicating a sudden wake-up and clothes wrinkly.

The second person was leaning against the door frame, bare arms showing surgical scars, thin and straight lines that littered her pale skin. Her hair was down, severely knotted and poorly cut to her shoulder blades. Her head leaned against the door frame and even from the distance Mikey could make out dark under eyes indicating many, many sleepless nights. They even managed to rival Donnie's after he spent a week working on whatever crazy idea jumped in his head. Her clothing was all black and it took a second for Mikey to recognize that the patch on the chest made it an uniform.

Was he at a military base? He hoped not, he had been warned many times how dangerous it would be for humans to get their hands on them. The fear spikes again as visions of biopsies and dissections fill his mind, blood being forced out of him and pieces taken away until he's nothing left but dust.

The lab coat rubs her eyes, "okay, okay, everything is under control," she confirms to herself, turning to Mikey, "how are you feeling?"

It takes a second for Mikey to process the fact that she was asking him. It seemed so... out of place in the sterilized room. They had him strapped to the table, things used to cut open animals laid beside him and she was asking how he was _feeling_?

_Like fucking shit._

Mikey could feel the smack from Leo about cursing like that, but he would curse for a full five minutes and reap the punishments if it meant seeing his eldest brother.

"Where are my brothers?" Crosses his beak instead, the lab coat frowning and turning to the soldier at the door.

She shrugs, seeming uncaring of his concerns, "we left them behind, not enough resources to hold four of them. One of them was like 7 feet."

_Left them behind? Where?_

"Are they safe?!" The question comes out sounding scared, Mikey upset that his voice made him sound like a child again. He hated it, he hated sounded young and scared and vulnerable-

_But you are, aren't you?_

The soldier just narrows her eyes, stepping back into the hallway and looking left and right before returning to her post, "I can hear Dr. Scalpel coming down here with her stupid stelatoes, she's gonna jump right into testing before you can talk to her and convince her to switch him to Shakespeare. If he's moved to the coastal facility, I can't look after him."

_Shakespeare? Coastal facility_?

"Wait, what's Shakespeare? Who's Dr. Scalpel, where am I?" His pleas fall on deaf ears as the lab coat shifts anxiously on her feet, before rushing to a cabinet near the door, scrambling for something amongst the needles and bottles. She finally pulls out one with a long end, filling the syringe with something white.

_No_.

The monitor jumps back up feverishly again as she returns with quick steps, the soldier gone to presumably stall whoever Dr. Scalpel was. Mikey's attempt to get away from the needle wasted away the last of the energy he had found, the skin on his wrists and ankles finally bleeding from the metal restraints.

"Please, don't!" He finds himself begging, desperation thick on his words and weighed down with terror. Mikey stares at her with wide black eyes, the devastatingly heartbreaking hopelessness contained within pleading for any type of mercy from the young woman.

She ignores his cries, finding a soft part of his skin, the needle sliding another as she injects whatever was inside the syringe into him. Mikey feels sick to his stomach at the pinch, and even more so when she pulls it out. That was it. The needle, the medicine, it finally tipped him over the edge as the reality of his situation sets in.

_I'm an experiment_.

_Mikey tried to focus as Donnie continued to tinker with the other things they found, but his eyes only grew heavier. The three spikes along Donnie's brown shell merged into one through the hazy curtain of tiredness and his eyes slipped shut. A few seconds later, something warm and fluffy fell on his shoulders, Mikey blinking his eyes awake to see Donnie carefully placing a blanket on his carapace._

_Donnie jumps at seeing his eyes opened, but a crooked smile crosses his face as he rubs the top of Mikey's plated head, "I'll get Leo or Raph to carry you to your bed once they're done training, thanks for the help today."_

His eyes threaten to close again, heavy from whatever drug was seeping into his system. Mikey yanks against the restraints one last time, but the attempt was futile as his arms barely lifted off the table. As his body finally gives up the struggle and the beeping of the monitor slows, he loses the fight.

The last thought to cross his mind is how desperately he wished Donnie was there to give him a blanket again.


	2. Compartmentalize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for continuing on and reading chapter two! I don't see the need for any warnings or possible triggers this chapter, but let me know in case there are some!

Donnie was the first to wake up, which also meant he was the first to realize that someone was missing. 

_Mikey._

The Hawksbill Turtle was nowhere to be found, Donnie scrambling to his feet to try and locate any hint of where he could be. Ignoring the pounding headache, Donnie called for Mikey, his voice echoing loudly before he remembered how reckless he was being. Donnie's beak clipped in frustration, spiraling into thinking Mikey was playing some type of game. 

It wasn't uncommon for the youngest turtle to start a random game of hide and seek after a mission, his giggles usually giving away to his location until Leo caves and let's the smaller turtle either ride back on his massive shell or Raph's. 

Donnie frowns when Mikey's usually high pitched laugh doesn't ring down the tunnels, his bioluminescence shell not showing up in any of the shadows. The smell of mildew and faint sour of the sewer masked the younger turtles usual scent of salt water and sweat. It takes a few more seconds until the Ringed Map Turtle feels the hollow sense that something was dangerously wrong. 

First, the grates to the topside released golden fractures of sunlight- they never risked staying out that early. While the sewers were usually free of humans, it didn't change the fact that a few reckless souls or poor workers would stumble their way down when the sun rises for a new day. 

Most disturbing of all was the fact that Raph and Leo were still out, both laying face down in the center of the tunnel. At first he thought that maybe this was some elaborate prank- it wouldn't be the first time- but they had crossed the point of harmless to cruel. 

"Raph, Leo, this isn't funny," Donnie states with a scowl, poking the red banded turtle with his staff, "and get Mikey to come back from wherever you told him to go, I'm tired of being the butt end of your stupid pranks." 

No response sounds from Raph, not even when Donnie presses the end of his staff against one of the sensitive spikes on his head. The last time he risked that move, Raph had woken up and trashed the room in a matter of seconds in an animalistic rage, Donnie high tailing it out of there and vowing to never again be the one to wake up the quick to anger brother. 

The hollow feeling shifted to being sick, Donnie's headache growing in intensity as he tries to recall what went wrong. He can't seem to bring forth the memories, a thick hazy fog occupying the cracks in his mind. It was taking a while to clear the long talons of frustration and disappoint digging into his sides. He couldn't concentrate, thoughts slipping around like smoke, which means he wasn't able to solve the problem in front of him. 

_ What's going on? Where's Mikey? Why are Leo and Raph not moving? Why is it daytime and why can't I remember anything from the past few hours?  _

_ One thing at a time.  _

That cleared some more fog from his mind, the need to solve one thing at a time blowing it away like wind. He could focus on that, placing his rambling thoughts into neat little boxes that could be open individually when he was ready. 

_ Leo and Raph.  _

The lack of movement was never a good sign. Donnie was too weak to pull them over to supine, the two turtles easily weighing twice as much as him, but he could at least check their pulses. Raph had both, his radial and carotid strong and regular. Leo was the same, the Leatherback sea turtle having two darts in his neck. 

Donnie freezes at that, his fingers hovering over them as bad thoughts run through his head at lightning speeds. 

_ Poison? Is that why he's unconscious? But he has a strong pulse so it's not affecting his heart. Unless it's slow acting, and taking a while to set in. But where would the antidote come from? What was the poison from? Was it even poison- Raph didn't have any darts and neither do I, why does Leo?  _

Compartmentalize. Thoughts put in boxes. One thing at a time. 

Donnie slowly pulls out the darts, making sure to not nick any veins or arteries that may cause a major bleed. Two beads from, but overall the removal was fine. Donnie turns them over in his hand, looking for any markings that may indicate where they came from. A frown graces his face as no stamps appear on the glass vial, only the small drops of a white liquid still stuck to the walls. The markings would have been amazing- a quick solution to where the darts came from but the liquid within may prove to be just as effective. If he can figure out the ingredients, maybe he could localize the source and- 

_Mikey!_

The darts fall into the dark corner of his mind, the box holding his missing brother finally erupting and releasing a tornado of nerves and fears. 

_ I forgot about him, I'm a terrible brother. Where is he? I can't see him anywhere, but I don't see blood either so he may not be injured. What about a trail, foot steps, water being dragged in odd places? Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing-  _

Compartmentalize. Thoughts put in boxes. One thing at a time. 

_The T-phones._

God, he was such an idiot. The T-phones were equipped with trackers in case they ever got separated. All were connected, so all Donnie had to do was follow the orange dot blinking on his screen. 

Except the dot was blinking right beside him. Was Mikey on the surface? Not even his little brother was that reckless and stupid. The surface was off limits during the day, surely he didn't wander up there by himself. Donnie's eyes fall on Leo's large hands, one raised slightly as if something was underneath it. 

_No._

The word runs rampant in his mind, ripping apart the boxes as everything floods and rips him apart from the inside. Sharp and cutting remarks on his insecurities, the dull pounding of his fears, the burning of a thousand questions and worst of all- the screams that something was wrong. Donnie slowly lifts Leo's hand with his shaking own, the blue scales almost appearing black against his green skin. His eyes widened at the sight of Mikey's T-phone tucked neatly under the flipper, the screen cracked and refusing to power on. The only way to track Mikey was destroyed. 

The thoughts turn into a hurricane, a monster that couldn't be tamed and Donnie was being destroyed from the inside. The sewer walls start to close in around him, a weight on Donnie's chest increasing with each passing second. He wasn't sure if he was even breathing and oh God, why can't he remember anything? Why can't he focus? Why, why, why- 

"-nnie. Hey, Don, are you okay? Can you hear me?" Someone questions, his thoughts still twisting, but the voice had led him to the eye of the storm and he was finally able to focus. He blinks once, twice, as his senses come back from the white noise he just suffered through. 

His knees were cold and wet, meaning that at some point he had collapsed to the sewer ground. Rough hands were around his wrist, gently pulling his hands away from his scalp, the headache he had been ignoring now ramming into him with full force. Donnie scrunches his face up with a pained hiss, a burning sword going into one temple and out the other, looking up with squinted eyes to see the familiar red bandana of Raph. His face was pinched in concern, but once he clued into Donnie's eyes being open, it was quickly replaced by a mask of annoyance. 

"You're doing that whole over thinking thing again," he comments dryly, still gently holding Donnie's wrist, "what is it this time?" 

"Mikey's missing!" Donnie explained hurriedly. Now that he had someone to explain things to, he found his head reorganizing itself, the purple clad turtle scrambling up to his feet. Raph follows, trying to hide a wince that crosses his face. 

"So what? The kid's probably hiding someplace waiting for us to chase him down, this isn't new." 

"No, that's not the issue, Mikey's-" Donnie pauses, noticing the flitting moment of pain that overcame Raph's usually unreadable face. Raph /hated/ showing any signs of weakness. Donnie had made it a habit to do a visual check after every fight to make sure this older brother wasn't hiding some reckless injury to favor his reputation as a tough bad boy. 

_ Tough bad boy who still sleeps with his baby blanket.  _

On more than one occasion, he had caught a bleeding cut or cradled joint, but this time the wound was already bandaged, a white pad located above Raph's knee. A dime of blood had seeped through the dressing as had the dirt stains of the sewer floor. It would have to be disinfected when they got back, but the issue was that Donnie didn't remember bandaging the wound. He didn't even remember Raph getting hurt or a fight. He felt like he was missing an entire night of his life, like a tooth. There was a gap he couldn't stop obsessing over. 

"... you're hurt," Donnie states lamely, Raph following his gaze to the bandage on his thigh, "when did you get hurt?" 

"Uh..." it was clear that Raph was at a loss for an answer as well, the Mata Mata turtle taking a suspiciously long amount of time to formulate a response, "I... I don't remember. It's probably not a big deal," he adds quickly, hiding the shard of worry that had embedded itself in his words, "I might've just scratched myself or something." 

Donnie frowns, the explanation making sense but still not satisfying the ever growing mystery, "Mikey's missing," he continues, banishing Raph's wound to the corner of his mind. He would deal with it once they got back to the lair or found Mikey, whichever one came first. He was really hoping it would be the latter, "his T-Phone is shattered and under Leo's hand, it was placed there on purpose by someone." 

"What?! Are you saying Mikey was kidnapped?" Anger, rage, worry, and fear raced across Raph's face within seconds, the spikes on his forehead contouring with each shift of his features. For someone who claimed to 'not do emotions' Raph went through them very quickly. 

Donnie's eyes trail down to Raph's fists which were unclenching and clenching. A drop of blood falls between the cracks, indicating that his claws had instinctively popped out. Out of the four turtles, Raph had somehow kept a lot of the animalistic tendencies of his species, preferring meat to vegetables and keeping his large claws where as Donnie had lost his. Unlike his ancestors, Raph could at least withdraw them back, but sometimes during high tense situations, they found a way out. 

"You're hurting yourself," Donnie warns him quietly, hoping that by keeping his energy low Raph would follow. Already his heart rate had dropped and his overthinking episode long forgotten, his concern was now on keeping Raph calm and as long as he had that goal in mind he could focus. 

The taller turtle blinks once before looking down to see the small pool of blood at his feet. Unfurling his hands revealed bloody claws and ripped bandages, Raph quickly hid the injuries under crossed arms. Donnie elicits to ignore the injuries for now, averting his eyes back to Leo's still prone form, "I don't know. I don't remember anything since we left for patrol, but clearly we were out," he continues, pointing to the light shining down from the manhole, "and while we were out you got hurt meaning there was a conflict of some sort. We must've won because this is the way back to the Lair and you're treated, but we were attacked again, this time knocked out by-" 

Donnie frowns, struggling to recall what would knock them out. His headache indicated possible head trauma, were they all hit in the head? Seemed unlikely, plus he didn't feel any bumps along his skull and there was no blood staining anyone's head. Except Leo did have those darts in his neck. 

"-we were knocked out by gas," Donnie finally connects, eyes going wide as he turns to Leo, "That's why Leo was hit by tranquilizers but we weren't! Leo and Mikey are sea turtles, they both can hold their breaths far longer than we can, remember that time we timed them in the pool? Leo lasted an hour with no problems, we must've breathed in the gas and when Leo didn't, they hit him with the darts." 

"We were drugged?!" Raph yells, Donnie wincing at his tone, "AND they took Mikey?! Donnie, we have to go after them!" His eyes were swirling with pure rage, but also panic, a mixture that stung Donnie to the core. As much as Raph pretended to be nonchalant about his brothers' well being, he was always the one to hold a hand during a bone reset and first to offer to carry an injured turtle. Losing Mikey would be devastating, and Donnie was worried about the moment Raph would crack and shatter. 

His hands were back out, bloody and curled, ready to punch anyone who stood in his way, but before he could act, Donnie placed a hand on his arm. Raph twitches at the contact, but understanding flits across his eyes before his younger brother even explains how that was a useless plan, "we always come home before the sun comes up. Mikey went missing hours ago, whoever has him is long gone. 

The next words that crossed Donnie's beak were far too heavy with hopelessness for a 15 year old child, "we're too late, Raph." 

**{◇°◇}**

Donnie jerks his head up from his desk for what feels like the hundredth time, a flash flood of guilt washing over him at realizing that he had fallen asleep. Blinking his eyes to clear his vision, he squints at the corner of his computer screen, sighing when the math adds up to 30 minutes lost. 

He wasn't an illogical being, he knew that sleep was necessary for adequate functioning and beneficial problem solving, but every second his eyes were close was another second wasted. 

_Seven days._

Mikey has now officially been missing for seven days, and the last sleep Donnie had had since then were the few hours he was knocked out in the sewers. The rest have been short power naps, no more than 20 minutes taken at his desk, his head resting on his arms and keyboard impatiently pushed to the side. The only reason he hasn't collapsed on his feet was the bottomless coffee and the need to find Mikey. Everytime he had entertained the idea of bed, of getting a full 8 hours and properly recharging, an image of Mikey crossed his vision and the guilt started gnawing away at his heart. 

He could be tied to a medical table right now, or being tortured for information, the nightmares were endless and Donnie was nowhere close to finally solving the mystery. 

He had spent hours combing through security cameras, trying to spot any clues that someone had infiltrated the sewers. Nothing had popped up and he had even backtracked a few days, wondering if maybe they had been camping out to try and throw the cameras off. 

The only thing that ever came up were the few workers who would do regular maintenance in the sewer. No thugs, or gangs who had a personal vendetta against the turtles. 

Donnie releases a frustrated sigh, rubbing his burning eyes. Staring at his computer screen for hours on end did not agree with his vision and the headache he had gained from the gas was only replaced by the pain of staring at something so bright. Turning away from the screen, Donnie frowns at the mess his lab has become, papers with messy notes and theories crumpled on the floor, empty plates and cups occupying his numerous tables and work spaces and broken inventions thrown in frustration shattered against the ground. The only light was coming from his screen, Donnie opting to stay in the dark. The choice turned out to be a mistake, messing with his internal clock when it comes to meals. The only reason he ate anymore was because Leo made sure to bring him a plate of reheated leftovers whenever everyone else got to eating. More than once he had pleaded with Donnie to take an actual break, the Leatherback turtle's eyes showing a vulnerability Donnie wasn't used to, but his younger brother only mumbled a quick thanks and went back to whatever theory he was mapping out. He only left his lab to go to the washroom and refill his coffee, other than that his only thought was finding Mikey. 

Raph and Leo had taken a different path, instead going out every night to question any of their usual suspects and revisiting areas Mikey usually runs to when spooked or lost. Each night they turned up empty handed, and each night Raph was getting more and more angry. The few times Donnie would see him on his rare visits to the other world, his muscles were tense and features pressed even thinner, new bandages appearing after each interrogating, leading Donnie to believe he was taking a more physical route for questioning. 

They never spoke, but Donnie knew that Raph was turning into a ticking time bomb, and it wouldn't be long until he exploded. 

Splinter had tried to stop the pair the first night they went out, Donnie pressing his head against his lab door to try and listen in to the conversation. 

_ "The people who attacked you knew what they were doing! I am not letting another son disappear! You can chase a lead once Donatello has found a solid path, until then you all must remain here!"  _

_ "Yeah? And how long is that going to take! Donnie isn't getting anywhere with his research!" Raph had yelled back, Donnie wincing at the brittle layer of terror hidden in the folds of red anger, "Mikey could be getting tested on right now or something! We're wasting time sitting here doin' nothing!"  _

_ "Raphael!" Master Splinter calls, and Donnie takes it as a sign that his older brother had left.  _

_ Silence suffocates the home, only broken by Leo's calmer tone, "I'll stick with him and we both have our trackers on with our T-Phones. If something seems off, I'll hit the emergency alert and Donatello will know right away. We'll be careful."  _

_ A deep sigh follows Leo's receding footsteps as he chases after Raph. Donnie had raced back to his desk when he heard the quiet foot falls of his father, ignoring the sound of his lab door sliding open. He made no indication of noticing his father watching him and Splinter had left him in silence.  _

Two days later and Splinter left as well. Chasing his own clues apparently, and digging up buried skeletons of his past. He didn't say when he would return, but Donnie made sure he could operate his T-Phone properly in case anything happened. The black dot showed that his father was out of the New York limits, steadily traveling to the coast. When Donnie asked, his only response was that his path was sending him home. Donnie decided not to push it, his father had his mysteries and pestering him would only give him vague answers. 

Donnie sighs again, picking up his coffee mug and frowning when he realized it was cold. He hated cold coffee- what was the point of waiting for the drink to brew only to ruin it with ice? Or dumping an ungodly amount of sugar and milk into the mixture, like Mikey had a habit of doing. 

_ One week.  _

_ I'm so sorry, Mikey.  _

Donnie pinches the bridge of his beak and decides that he would risk a few minutes of his time to get a fresh cup. Maybe the hot coffee would chase away the lingering claws of sleep and give him the chance to focus again. With a deep sigh Donnie rises to his feet, ignoring the creak of his chair from the sudden release of weight. Peeking out from his lab, he sees that no one is in the pit, nor does he hear any sounds from the dojo. The Ringed-Map Turtle frowns, trying to remember if he heard Raph and Leo leaving for the night, but as far as he knew the lair had been quiet. Maybe they weren't back yet from their last trip. He made a mental note to check where the trackers were when he returned. 

However, as Donnie was digging around for the coffee grounds, a shadow fell over him, indicating that his eldest brother was in the room and blocking the light. Donnie let's his head thump against the cupboard, his brain solving why he couldn't find his caffeine, "you hid it, didn't you?" He retracts his arm from his fruitless search, letting them hang limply at his side. 

"I did." 

"It's under your bed, you always hide our gifts there," Donnie guesses lamely, refusing to face his brother. Leo had made it clear that Donnie's lack of sleep was a growing concern of his and he didn't have the energy to turn around and face his stupid overprotective big brother eyes. Each time he faced Leo and saw the worry, Donnie felt a crack growing across his heart and he was sure it was about to shatter. 

He didn't have the energy to pick up whatever pieces that would remain. 

"You need actual sleep Donnie," Leo's voice was as calm as it always is, no emotions to betray his true feelings, "running on nothing isn't making us find Mikey any faster." 

The brittle glass around Donnie's heart hardens at the words, anger seeping in where he had originally feared sadness would. The words cross his lips before he can bring himself to stop them, "fuck you, Leo." 

Silence stretches between them, only broken by Leo giving him a lowly warning, "Donatello-" 

He was too late though, the glass had already shattered, turning into daggers of pure rage that just wanted to cut something. They shredded Donnie's heart to ribbons and made his chest burn, until they pointed their bloodied ends at Leo. 

"No, seriously, fuck you Leo!" Donnie snaps, spinning to face his brother with seething hostility in his eyes, "stop with that 'Donatello' and concerned older brother bullshit!" The cupboard slams shut, Leo not flinching at the sound, no reaction on his face when the flimsy door falls off it's rusty hinges and crashes at Donnie's feet, "How dare you be worried about me when Mikey is God knows where getting hurt and being scared! How can I sleep or rest knowing that our baby brother was kidnapped and I'm fine and at home and safe? I'm his older brother, I'm supposed to protect him!" 

Leo frowns at his words, clearly not expecting this type of outburst to come from his usually mellow genius brother. He opens his beak, as if wanting to speak, but decides against it, letting it shut with an audible click. If the yelling had hurt him, he made no indication, which only made Donnie angrier. 

"Yell at me already Leonardo! I've combed through hours of footage, written enough notes to make a novel, but I've found nothing! You shouldn't be showing me any concern, not when I can't figure this shit out, I'm failing Mikey over here!" The words hit Donnie like a bus, and the black dots of exhaustion crowd across his vision, "I'm failing Mikey." 

The only physical obstacle between Leo and Donnie was an island, a concrete box used to prep big meals that had been collecting dust since Mikey's disappearance. It apparently was the size of a toothpick to Leo, because he wasted no time leaping over it to catch Donnie, the smaller turtle swaying on his feet. 

Donatello crashes against Leo's plastron, his vision blurry as finally exhaustion and sleep deprivation latch onto him. Leo doesn't push him off, instead using his arms to steady his younger brother and hold him close to his heart. He didn't make Donnie talk or even spoke himself, just waited patiently for the smaller turtle to make a move. 

_Great, now I feel like an asshole._

10 seconds ago he was cursing Leo's name and calling him a terrible brother and now said terrible brother was holding him like he was a little kid again, heart beat slightly muffled through the Leatherback's rubbery plastron. 

An apology bubbled up in Donnie's chest, driven by guilt, but instead a very small voice whispers out, "I'm failing Mikey, Leo." 

Leo doesn't respond, but a hum vibrates through his chest in understanding. He was as equally frustrated as Donnie- their expeditions to the surface were only beneficial in letting Raph release his stress, nothing was linking them to Mikey's whereabouts. Unlike Donnie however, he didn't lash out at his remaining brothers and that thought pushes Donnie over the edge as tears well up in his eyes. 

"I'm so so sorry," Donnie hiccups, the tears finally following as the apology breaks through the soils of frustration and fatigue, "I'm sorry I can't find Mikey and I'm sorry I keep failing and I'm sorry for saying all those terrible things-" 

The list continues as Leo pulls the pair to the ground, Donnie's legs violently shaking as he's no longer strong enough to hold himself up. The older turtle had drawn his knees up, Donnie trapped in between them as one massive hand rested on the three ridges on his spine, the other holding Donnie's head to Leo's shoulder. Through the hazy layer of tears, Donnie makes out the jagged white scars from Leo's early training days, notches on his shell and shoulders reminders of clumsy sword accidents that lessen with maturity. More than once Donnie was subjected to a quick stitch job caused by Leo misplacing his katanas on his shell. It was a mistake that rarely occurred anymore, but still left a nasty reminder. 

Donnie couldn't help but wonder what the scars from Mikey's disappearance would look like and how long they would burn. 

Leo leans forward slightly from his spot and Donnie knows that he's fully hidden from the outside world now. Even as kids, Leo was massive, towering over his brothers and having no problem carrying them around, and the size difference had never changed in the following years. Donnie used to hate being reminded of his shorter size, but he felt safe in the shadow of Leo's embrace. 

Leo's plastron rumbles as he quietly promises Donnie that he isn't failing Mikey, that the fact he's still searching is proof enough of his love for his younger brother, and that they would find him. The words eased the vise Donnie's chest and softened the glass shards around his heart, but the tears did not stop. 

They fell down in rivers, dripping down his cheeks to land on the shaking hands resting on his plastron, and staining the wraps he had refused to take off since the disappearance. 

They continued to fall as Leo said nothing, a calm and quiet presence that showed no judgement or ridicule to the sudden vulnerability Donnie was displaying. 

And they didn't cease until after the comfort of darkness and promise of peace had coaxed Donnie to finally close his eyes and rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Donnie cursing is just... so funny to me.


	3. Let Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: none

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Mikey is such a sweetheart, I would never hurt him.
> 
> Me:
> 
> Me: however-

Mikey lays flat on his plastron, limbs splayed out haphazardly on the cool tile as he gazed at nothing in particular, eyes half hooded in exhaustion, but in too much pain to actually sleep. 

His consciousness felt like a balloon filled with helium, and he was a little kid holding onto it with a flimsy string. Strong winds threatened to rip it from his grasp and at this point, Mikey would have welcomed the release. He was just so tired of being poked and prodded at, body aching from needles and overheating from the cocktail of drugs they probably had him on. The only thing keeping him from fully floating away was the hope that his brothers would come save him. 

But with each test, each painful procedure, that hope became a lot harder to hold on to. Mikey wasn't sure if he had the strength to keep the grip on the balloon. He was dangerously close to just letting it go. 

A strong gust pulls at the balloon and the string slips slightly, Mikey's eyes fluttering shut. 

_Mikey narrows his eyes at the manhole cover, trying to see any glimpses of the topside through the holes. The only thing that struggled through the New York fog was a few shimmering stars._

_ "... it looks heavy," Mikey mutters nervously, the grey circle of metal glaring down menacingly at him. Mikey stretches up one webbed hand, but his fingertips don't even come close, a foot of empty space between him and the topside. It was his eleventh birthday and as the tradition goes he was finally old enough to leave the sewers.  _

_ However, he also had to lift a manhole cover by himself. Mikey frowns at the challenge, remembering how Donnie had struggled on his birthday. The smaller turtle was forced to give up when the sun had risen, and had locked himself in his lab in frustration. Mikey spent a lot of time standing in front of the locked door, trying to sum up the courage to knock, but Leo told him to leave Donnie alone.  _

I t's a challenge he has to face himself. 

_ The next night, Donnie had succeeded, using his staff as a leverage versus his own strength. His eyes had grown so wide upon realizing he did it, even if it was in the unconventional way. Mikey was in awe of his brother that day, where he lacked in physical strength, he made up for in intelligence.  _

_ The three other turtles had left Mikey alone that day for the first time, and the sewers had never felt lonelier, but Mikey didn't have to be lonely anymore, he was eleven now, he could go to the surface! The only thing in the way was the metal plate.  _

_ "Don't sweat it, Donnie can lift it without using his little staff voodoo now and you're already stronger than him when he was eleven," Raph assures him, Donnie stiffening at the words and smacking the taller turtle with his staff. Raph blocks it with his massive forearm, eyes narrowing in challenge but mouth quirking upwards to a mischievous smile.  _

_ "It's not voodoo!" He defends with a deep scowl, dodging Raph's lunge towards him with fast feet, "it's simple science, I used leverage and- hey!" He cries, interrupted by Raph jumping him and sending the pair rolling, spikey limbs and yellow stripes merging in the scuffle.  _

_ They stop with Donnie in a headlock, kicking his feet to try and get out of his older brother's grasp, pinching his face up when Raph laughs loudly and rubs the top of the yellow-striped turtles head affectionately, "sounds like nerd stuff to me!"  _

_ The pair continue to bicker, Donnie still squirming to get out of Raph's grasp, but Mikey's attention is drawn away by Leo placing a large hand on his shoulder. The smaller sea turtle had to crane his head up to see Leo's eyes, but there was no impatience buried in the sapphire, just understanding.  _

_ "We're always going to be there to help you, otouto," Leo promises, Mikey's heart swelling up at hearing the affectionate term, "but some things you have to face yourself, and this is one. If we ever get separated, you have to be able to get in and out of the sewers by yourself."  _

_ "Separated?" Mikey echoes, blinking anxiously at the word. He didn't like that idea. As much as he wanted to visit the topside, he couldn't imagine ever having to face whatever is up there alone. The thought itself was more terrifying than having to wake up Raph in the winter.  _

_ Leo smiles down at him gently, "it's unlikely, but we have to be prepared."  _

_ Mikey nods his head sternly, bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement, "of course, I won't let you down, ani!" The youngest turtle turns back to face the manhole cover, trying to figure out a way to not only reach it, but also move it.  _

_ His eyes land on the holes that teased him with dreams of freedom and a confident smile crosses his face. It takes one jump for Mikey to latch onto the gaps and swing his feet up to plant on the top of the sewer tunnel, Mikey sticking his tongue out in concentration as he struggles to shift the cover from his awkward upside down position.  _

_ "Forget about being a sea turtle, Mikey's secretly a spider-monkey," Raph jokes, "ow! Donnie, you brat!" He roars, cradling his hand where the red mark of a bite begins to show.  _

_ Donnie ducks out of his scrambling arms and scoops up his staff, dancing away from the red-banded turtle to hide behind Leo. He shoots Mikey an encouraging smile, the one that's so wide his eyes shut, and a thumbs up. Mikey's confidence soars and a grinding sound echoes in the sewer as the cover finally gives in to Mikey's pushing. Mikey quickly shifts a hand between the gap he created and wiggles his way through, using the hard part of his shell to push the cover hallways off. Once sitting on the lip, he kicks the cover completely off, the scraping sound agitating his senses and reminding him of Leo's katanas scraping against brick.  _

_ For some reason though, it was the most beautiful sound in the world.  _

_ A wide smile breaks across Mikey's face as the sights, smells, and sounds of New York city wash over him. The alley was dark, lined with neon graffiti and overflowing trash cans, glowing eyes of rodents and cats scattering at the sight of the strange new critter. The pulsing of signs and lights reflected on the puddles, a portal to another world at the end of the tunnel. The stars stood out against the blackened sky, a half moon smiling down at Mikey. Night owls bickered as they walked the streets, cars yelled over the sounds of engines and wheels and a symphony of electronics pinged in the air. The surface smelt slightly better than the sewer- maybe a bit less sour, but it was a paradise in Mikey's eyes.  _

_ Mikey scoots out of the way to let his other brothers up, but frowns when no one follows.  _

_ Maybe Raph caught Donnie again and Leo is splitting them up.  _

_ But Mikey couldn't hear the middle children fighting anymore. He crawls back over to peer down and feels his heart drop when he's greeted by whistling air, "dudes?"  _

_ The wind rams into his face with a force he wasn't expecting, Mikey leaping away from the gust of air only to collide with someone standing behind him. A sharp shove sounds Mikey to his hands and knees and he twists around to stare up into the eyes of Doctor Stockman.  _

_ Mikey's baby blue eyes widen as he scrambles backwards, only to realize that he couldn't move his hands or feet and the sights and sounds of home fade into the white sterile rooms of hell. His head slams against the metal table, stars exploding across his eyes as Stockman takes up his field of view, white surgical mask and plastic goggles covering his dark skin, brown eyes narrowed down at Mikey in disgusting curiosity.  _

_ Mikey hears the sound of the saw they used to take a part of his shell before he feels it, a strong gust of wind stealing the scream wedged in his throat.  _

Mikey finds himself waking up with a shiver versus a cry. He didn't have the energy to do that anymore, he didn't have the energy to do much of anything. The part of his shell they chipped off still ached, even though Doctor April O'Neill was kind enough to clean and bandage it. She was the only person Mikey didn't flinch away from. Her hands, though rough with scars from sharp claws, were gentle and never seemed to have intention to hurt him. The second time he woke up, she was already by his side, clothes neatly tucked in and hair pulled up properly. Unlike him, she must've gotten some sleep, bags under her eyes from their first rushed introduction almost completely faded from her dark skin. 

She was kind enough to explain that the IV in his arm was to treat dehydration, a clear fluid to keep him healthy. She was also very saddened to explain to him that a procedure was done while he was asleep. 

_ Mikey opens his mouth, ready to fire away a million questions, but the only sound that comes out is a strangled wheeze. Guilt and pity flashes across Doctor O'Neill's face and she rests a hand on his forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze, "oh, sweetheart.  _

_ "I'm so sorry. They had me freeze your vocal cords. You won't be able to form words for three weeks."  _

Mikey had refused to cry at the news, instead he clicked his beak shut and looked away, webbed hands curling into tight fists. However, the ache in his chest was undeniable. Speaking was a part of who Mikey was. Leo could be the strong and silent type, but his younger brother was a social person, craving interaction to remain sane and happy. Not being able to speak- that was heartbreaking. 

A dull throb echoed in his shell, Mikey reaching back with a shaky hand to feel the bandage, a cotton square over his left shoulder blade. It caves in when he presses down gently, a low whine sounding from the sensation. They had stolen so much from him- his words, his blood and tissue, sharp knives cutting off sections of his skin with careful precision, Mikey feeling everything but unable to flinch away from the sharp prodding. They made sure to paralyze him during all the procedures, but never sedated him to dull the pain. O'Neill was always there to disinfect and bandage at the end, but all she could do was give him a sorrowful look before he got thrown back into the cell he was forced to call home. 

Mikey's hand drops down beside him with a thump, limb feeling as heavy as a brick. Everything in the facility was white- white walls, white floors, white doors and his cell was no different. A narrow rectangle room that was furnished with a steel toilet and sink. There was no bed- an animal doesn't need a bed according to Stockman. 

Stockman called him a lot of things. Animal, monster, freak, it, _weapon_ , but never Mikey or Michelangelo. He wasn't a person with consciousness here, he was just something for them to poke at, an experiment. A monster. 

The word creates another strong wind and Mikey twitches on the ground, fearful that closing his eyes would tarnish another memory. Each time a vision of his family fluttered past, Stockman would shatter it. He couldn't risk losing anymore. 

He was saved by the soft whirring of the lock on his door releasing, eyes blowing wide as his heart hammers in his chest. The door opening meant more experiments, more needles, more stolen parts, more- 

"Is he dead." 

The voice was constant, never changing in tone to show emotions. It reminded Mikey of Leo, the voice of a leader, but this one was female, and was often followed by rough hands and dragging. 

_Juliet._

From what Mikey had pieced together, Juliet was a bodyguard, or more specifically HIS bodyguard. She went everywhere with him, standing at the door during surgeries and escorting him back to the pathetic excuse of a room. She never showed an emotion beyond mild disinterest, and always wore the same uniform: black pants and tank top with a stitched crest of something called F.O.O.T, F05 in smaller text underneath. He never figured out what F05 meant, but he assumed F.O.O.T. was the name of the people holding him. She was cold and uncaring, but Mikey had witnessed her levelling a glare at anyone who laughed at him or called him a name. 

That stopped bothering him after a while. The only word that really hurt was monster. He wasn't a monster. 

_I'm not a monster._

"What, no, he should be fine," April explains, Mikey hearing her soft footsteps drawing closer. He focused on the far wall, refusing to face her. He didn't care if she was the only person in the nightmarish facility who showed any drop of care- she was working with them and Mikey couldn't let his guard down. 

What did Donnie call it again? Right, a manipulative tactic. He would trust her, only to have her turn on him and hurt him far worse than Stockman. At least Stockman made his intentions clear, O'Neill suddenly becoming as harsh as him was terrifying. 

"Mikey?" She questions, laying a gentle hand on his shell. The sensation almost brings tears to Mikey's eyes, reminding him of the soothing touches and rubs his brothers would give him when he was hurt or sick. 

Almost. He didn't have the energy to cry anymore. 

"You gotta stop calling him that, Karai made it clear he's in phase three of training. That means dehumanization. It's T05 now." 

_Dehumanization._

The word unflurried a dark torrent in his heart and the string becomes so hard to hold on to, wind whipping the balloon around wildly. 

_Please, ani. I can't hold on any longer._

"He's just a kid," April says mournfully, but Juliet scoffs from her spot further away. 

"Right, and so was I and Ophelia and Juno, and the list continues," Juliet argues, Mikey not recognizing all the new names, "can we get this over with, I'm late for training. Plus this room smells awful." 

"C'mon Mi-" April pauses, tripping on her words, "-T05. You need to get your shell cleaned, you have the early signs of shell rot and I want to avoid that." 

_Shell rot?_

Mikey had heard that term before. Raph had come down with it at some point, an infection from a crack in his shell from crashing into a roof during training. His brother had become deathly pale and weak, unable to leave his bed in the room he and Leo shared. Donnie had worked tirelessly to try and stop the infection, and it was the first time Mikey had seen his immediate older brother openly cry. The disease was deadly in some cases, and Mikey decided that he would take that chance. 

Dying sounded so much better than being forced to continue with the procedures. 

April runs her hand down Mikey's shell in a comforting manner, "C'mon, the water will make you feel better," she promised quietly when Mikey doesn't make any move from his spot, "... Please. Karai will take you to the coastal facility, you won't survive down there." 

Mikey twitches at the word coastal. That sounded very far away, the word bringing forth memories of oceans and beaches. It would take so much longer for his brothers to find him if they moved him suddenly. He was holding on so tightly to the hope that they would come, leaving would prolong their search. 

Mikey squeezes his eyes shut, digging within his heart to find the strength to push himself up, but his arms were shaking too much and he collapsed back on the ground. April sucks in a breath at his condition, but Juliet was the one who responded. 

A hand closes around the edge of his carapace, at the spot where his neck just begins to be exposed, and lifts him to his feet. Pain explodes from the spot, Mikey releasing a high pitched squeal, face scrunching up as he's forced to stand on his shivering legs. The pain lessens now that there's no pressure, but Juliet doesn't release her grip, Mikey mustering up the courage to glare up at her through a thin layer of hazy tears. 

Juliet narrows her eyes down at him, the girl taller than most of the other humans he has seen at the facility. She didn't seem at all phased by his glare, unless it was weaker than he intended it to be, "I'm going to tell you something that I'm only going to say once. You need to focus on surviving right now. The sooner you surrender to the training and give up, the sooner the pain will end." 

Juliet pauses, as if debating on whether or not she should say the next few words. She releases a sigh, closing her eyes briefly before opening them again, a rare moment of vulnerability flashing in the dark brown iris, "your brothers will come for you, I promise, but they can't save you if you're dead." 

The warning sends a shiver down Mikey's back, Juliet finally releasing his shell. He stumbles backwards, suddenly losing his support, reaching out hurriedly to steady himself against the wall. His legs still shook, but he didn't fall. 

_They can't save you if you're dead._

But if he let's the balloon go... won't that be the same as dying? Giving up and just letting himself go numb? Donnie could bring him back though, right? Yet, Mikey still held the string, his fingers just a bit tighter this time. His brothers would come. He just had to stay strong. 

"Well? We got to get you cleaned up, don't we?" Juliet questions, already standing outside of the cell. April looks nervously between the pair before extending an arm to Mikey, offering support while he walks. The turtle ignores the offer, pushing himself off the wall and focusing on just putting one foot in front of the other. 

They could steal whatever they want from him, but there was no way in hell he was letting anyone take away his brothers. He would die before that happens. 

And the grip on the balloon grows stronger. 

**《◇°◇》**

Mikey closes his eyes, letting the steam from the shower wash over him. He had to sit away from the stream, by order of Doctor O'Neill. April had made it clear to Juliet that his bandages were not to get wet, especially the one on his shell as it was protecting a false shield until his naturally mended back together again. The scientist had spit out some mumbo jumbo that would make Donnie drool explaining the healing process, but it just made Mikey feel uneasy. April made it sound like they had to fix mutant turtle shells before. 

Mikey opens his eyes a crack, peering to his left to see Juliet crouched against the stall, her eyes trained on some device in her hand. A frown had graced her features, making the jagged scar across her nose arch upwards more. He was curious as to how she got it- it wasn't straight and surgical like the marks along her arms, but the scar was too symmetrical to be a battle wound. 

Mikey turns his gaze back to the drain, watching the last of the bubbles slide down. This cleaning was much nicer than the first one he was forced to do. The soap had been scratchy and rubbed his skin raw, the paint he used to cover his own battle scars flaking off to drift slowly to his feet. This time it was just a sponge, Juliet only interfering to help him reach the harder spots of his shell. Usually his brothers would help him. 

The thought sends a pang of loneliness up his chest, but Mikey squashes it down. As much as he hated to admit it, Juliet was right. He had to survive so his brothers had time to find him, and that meant guarding all the feelings that made him weak and vulnerable. He had to be strong now. 

"Are you done?" Juliet questions, Mikey making a chirping noise in place of a yes. She turns to turn the faucet off, but instead it comes out harder, a thundering noise that causes Mikey to take a step back. He wasn't expecting that. 

"They used to have cameras in here to observe me and Ophelia, but Emilia convinced Karai that it was extremely unethical and being abused by some of the older soldiers," Juliet explains, the frown seeming to deepen even more at the memory, "so it was just changed to a microphone, however the shower blocks any speaking." 

_ Emilia, Karai, April, Stockman-  _

The names circle in Mikey's head, too many to remember at once. As far as he could recall, it was yet to meet the infamous Karai, but the bitter way the name crossed Juliet's lips led him to believe she wasn't someone he wanted to see. 

"I'm going to tell your brothers where you are," Juliet explains, Mikey jumping to his feet at her words. The water had returned a surprising amount of his strength, but his head still swam at the sudden movement, Juliet steadying him before he could collapse, "at least I'm going to try to. I can't outright say anything, they record our missions, but I'll try and nudge them down the right path whenever I face them again." 

The words don't really make sense in Mikey's head- was she saying she would help him? That couldn't be possible, Juliet was working with them, she wore the uniform and listened to their orders. Maybe he was just hallucinating from all the drugs and he was still laying in his cell. 

"You're not in New York anymore, but you aren't that far away, only three hours by foot. As long as you listen and stay quiet, they won't ship you to the second facility near the Atlantic in Virginia. That will be much harder for them to find and break into," a slight pause as Juliet's hand hovers over the faucet, "Michelangelo." 

Mikey stiffens at his whole name, wondering how she knew that was what his nickname was short for. She turns and looks over her shoulder to fix her gaze on the turtle, a thin white scar cutting through the right corner of her lips and dripping down her chin, "April and I will do what we can to look after you, but you have to let them go." 

Mikey's eyes widen at her words, a protesting whine passing through his beak as he shakes his head. He wasn't going to let go, no matter what. They were all he had. 

The shower shuts off as Juliet narrows her eyes at the Hawksbill, the frown back on her pale face, "then die." 

Another strong gust of wind blows against Mikey's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favourite part about these characters so far other than the species are their heights, so here's the list:
> 
> Leonardo: 7'0  
> Mikey: 5'10  
> Raph: 5'6  
> Donnie: 5'4
> 
> Yeah. RIP Donnie I guess.


	4. Blue and White Leona

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings except for canon typical violence

Leonardo absentmindedly rubs soothing circles on Donatello's shell as the smaller turtle shakes in his arms, apologizes spilling out of his mouth in a frenzy and cutting into the Leatherback's heart like blades. He was mad in the beginning, a small spark of rage settling in his chest that sputtered out as Donatello's words lost their edge and revealed just how broken the small turtle was. Leonardo was so focused on Michelangelo that he had forgotten to check in on his other brothers. That was a massive failure on his part and Leonardo rests his head on top of Donatello's, his shaking slowly shivering to a stop as exhaustion finally digs its claws into him. Leonardo takes a few heartbeats to close his own eyes, pulling Donatello closer to his plastron with full intentions of shielding him from the world. 

Donatello believed he was failing Mikey, but Leonardo was failing them both. 

_ And Raphael. _

Leonardo regretfully opens his eyes, staring at the red bandages on the spikey turtle's knees. Silence engulfs them both, Leonardo looking up at the Mata Mata's emerald eyes and seeing a guarded expression, face pressed thin and lips pulled down in a frown. He holds the leader's gaze for a second before sliding it to the left, tilting his head towards the fallen cupboard door, "did Dee do that?" 

Leonardo stiffens slightly at the old nickname. Raphael rarely referred to them by their letters- not since learning their actual names. He was always a bit behind when it came to understanding words and phrases, Raphael still unable to read long passages without growing frustrated and tearing the paper up. Donatello blamed it on both his multiple concussions and the fact he was closer to animal than human. Raphael wasn't stupid though, his instincts and quick thinking were unmatched, able to read opponents within seconds and locate physical weak spots. 

However, the affectionate names like Dee, Mika, and Lee only made an appearance when his head was clouded by worries and doubts or one of his brothers was severely sick or injured. 

"... yeah," Leonardo responds tiredly. Now that Donatello was fast asleep, Leonardo was struggling to keep his eyes open. He had to be the biggest hypocrite around, telling his younger brother to sleep while he himself hadn't closed his eyes in days, "... you called him Dee." 

Raphael blinks at Leonardo's observation, confusion overcoming his features, "I did?" He mutters, trying to recall his words. The blue cladded turtle narrows his eyes at Raphael's clouded vision, his mask strategically placed closer to the bottom of his eyes. 

Hiding dark circles, Leonardo assumed. The pair shared a room, and whenever they shut the lights off, he could hear Raphael shifting in the bunk above him. Maybe they all needed a night of rest. 

"I'll fix it tomorrow," Leonardo promises, still sitting on the hard floor. He was scared that moving would wake his younger brother, but he had a sinking suspicion that Donatello was currently dead to the world and would be for a few hours. Besides, his back was starting to hurt from leaning at such an odd degree. He slowly rises to his feet, making sure to carefully collect Donatello in his arms and letting his head fall against the crook of his neck. The smaller turtle weighed nothing to the Leatherback and he barely shifted from the change in position. 

Raphael doesn't move from his spot, still staring at the broken door. Leonardo waits for any emotion to cross his face to indicate what exactly was going through his head, but all he saw was that clouded look, "I think we all should take a night to rest." 

Raphael stirs at that, turning to face Leonardo with narrowed eyes, "don't be ridiculous, we have to go out and search for more clues tonight." 

Leonardo narrows his eyes right back, "no, what we need is sleep. I know you haven't closed eyes since Mikey went missing either. You're being sloppy and aggressive on the streets and it's a liability to be with you." 

_ "Raphael!" Leonardo calls again, slightly louder in hopes of breaking whatever spell his brother was trapped in. He tosses his last assailant in the trash bin, lid slamming shut with a satisfying bang. The turtle wastes no time separating his raging brother from the final gang member. Leonardo looked down at the attacker, ready to knock him out, but his eyes had already rolled to the back of his head, blood dripping violently from his nose and mouth. Three bloody scratches run across his left cheek, Leonardo wincing as the scars on the side of his plastron flare up in sympathy. Raphael's claws did a lot of damage on the rare days they came out.  _

_ The leader turns to face the Mata Mata turtle with a frown, one hand above the smaller turtle's heart to keep him away from his victim, "why'd you beat him like that," Leonardo demands.  _

_ Raphael releases a snarl and Leonardo's frown only deepens. The stocky turtle won't be able to form words for the next few minutes, the shine of pure animalistic instincts dominating his emerald eyes. His claws were still in ready by his side, blood dripping from them and his knuckles to stain the ground at his feet. His twin sai were still safely tucked away in his belt.  _

_ He never had intentions of using them in the fight.  _

_ Leonardo sighs, letting his hand drop to his side and taking a step towards the fire escape, "it's a dead end, let's go up to the roof before the cops come."  _

_ Raphael just snarls again, ignoring Leonardo's order, eyes still trained on the fallen thug crumpled on the ground. The Leatherback's eyes widen as he realizes the thought running through Raphael's mind. His younger brother wanted to rip open the man's throat.  _

_ Raphael lunges, Leonardo racing to intercept before the contact can be made. The Mata Mata rams into Leonardo with full force, sending the two flying until the sea turtle's head impacts the brick wall of the alley, stars exploding across his vision as a dull throb spreads across his right upper thigh. One of Raphael's clawed hands was digging into the brick beside Leonardo's head, red stones raining down as Raphael slowly rakes the hand downwards. The pain in Leonardo's leg was caused by his other hand, sharp claws cutting through his thick skin and dragging down his flesh, Leonardo biting back a pained cry. Raphael's head was angled down, avoiding Leonardo's face as he breathes heavily, each exhale releasing a low growl that vibrates in his plastron.  _

_ It takes a few seconds for Raphael to slowly relax his grip, Leonardo not daring to move in case it triggers another attack. His shoulders shake as his eyes focus on the blood coming from his older brother's leg, the deep red liquid welling up from the spot and dribbling to the side. Silence overcomes them, broken by Raphael's erratic breathing until sirens are added to the mix, Leonardo turning towards the end of the alleyway that opens to the street. From his predictions, the police would be on scene in about a minute and he and Raphael could not be there.  _

_ "We have to go," Leonardo warns, rising to his feet and ignoring the sharp pain that follows. The cut wasn't that long, but Raphael's claws had dug deep, and he would probably need stitches when they got back to the lair. He would survive though, and he had dealt with far more painful injuries in the past.  _

_ Raphael doesn't move from his position on the ground, Leonardo glancing between him and the increasingly louder sirens, "Raphael, the police will be here soon, c'mon," he pushes, not ready to lose another brother. Raphael slowly lifts his head, turning to look up at Leonardo and he sees the clouded expression and far away look. Leonardo's orders were going in one ear and out the other and the only way to make Raphael move was physically, even if that meant risking another attack.  _

_ Leonardo grabs the top of Raphael's carapace and effortlessly lifts the heavy turtle back to his feet. Usually the action would send a sharp stab of pain down the spine, but Raphael made no indication of even feeling it. Leonardo pushes him to the fire escape, being mindful of the sharp ridges along the Mata Mata's shell. Once the rusty fire escape comes into view, Raphael blinks and some of the cloudiness is blown away, instinct taking over to scale up the wall with ninja speed. Leonardo follows right behind, ready to catch Raphael if he falters, but nothing happens. Leonardo just makes it over the edge when the lights flash, looking over his shoulder once to see the police men all crowded around the beaten thug, calling for an ambulance.  _

_ A low rumble sounds beside Leonardo, Raphael witnessing the scene, bloody hands rubbing each other nervously. He was back now, a bit more grounded and there was a thin layer of fear over his eyes. Leonardo's chest burns, not wanting his brother to face his actions. It wasn't entirely his fault, once Raphael tipped over the edge it was almost impossible to bring him back. The last attack like this was when they were kids, before Raphael learned to balance out his rage. Leonardo still had the three gouges in his plastron from when he jumped in front of Donatello to take the brunt of Raphael's aggression. He had refused to go near any of his brothers until he felt like he had the animal part of himself under control, but Michelangelo going missing was wearing him thin.  _

_ Leonardo just never expected it to escalate to this extreme. He blamed himself for not noticing sooner.  _

_ "Let's go home," Leonardo mutters, reaching out a hand to pull Raphael away from the edge. Raphael shakes his head furiously when Leonardo gets close, taking a step back with a scared whine, eyes focused on his bleeding leg. Leonardo still feels the odd sensation of warm blood dripping down his leg, but the pain has dull considerably, the turtle pushing the pain to the back of his mind, "Raphael, I'm fine. It doesn't even hurt."  _

_ Raphael doesn't move when Leonardo steps closer, and he also doesn't flinch from his touch, the larger turtle placing a hand against Raphael's cheek, "I'm not scared of you."  _

_ That seems to break whatever shadow was holding on to Raphael, his face crumpling up in a rare moment of vulnerability. He leans more into the touch, Leonardo taking it as a sign to pull him into a hug. A choked sob sounds from the back of Raphael's throat and Leonardo's heart aches, "let's go home."  _

Raphael seems surprised by his older brother's words, taking a step back. Regret and confusion flit across his face, his features screwing up to bare his jagged and sharp teeth in defensive. Leonardo knew it was an act to appear tough and had no meaning, but it was an early sign that Raphael was walking on a thin rope, "you ARE scared at me." 

"I didn't say that," Leonardo corrects, tightening his grip on Donatello and trying to keep his voice down. 

"You called me a-a liability! You think I'm a risk!" Raphael's shoulders had risen during his words, hands curled into fists by his side and muscles tense as if expecting a fight, "I'll just go out alone tonight, I don't need you!" 

"You do need me, if I wasn't there last night you would have killed that man," Leonardo reminds him, "you wouldn't be the same after that, I know you, you wouldn't be able to live with the knowledge you killed someone clouding over you. The police would have caught you after that and you would disappear just like Michelangelo did. I'm not losing another brother." 

"You can't stop me!" 

"No, but Dee can," Leonardo reminds him, taking a step towards Raphael and letting go of Donatello. Raphael's eyes widen and he scrambles out to catch his smallest brother before he impacts the ground, the Ringed-Map Turtle whining at the sudden change, but still remaining deep in sleep. 

"Wait, what, where are you going?" Raphael hisses as Leonardo turns to walk away, "you can't just leave him with me like this!" 

"Of course I can, we all know you're secretly a big softie Raphie, there's no way you'll let him drop which means there's no way you're going to leave the lair," Raphael growls at his words, even more so when Leonardo uses the very old nickname, "and I'm getting Donatello's room ready so he can sleep in an actual bed." 

"Like... in his room?" 

"Not sure where else his bed is." 

"Don't do that to him," Raphael mutters, Leonardo almost missing the words. His eyes shifted from Leonardo to Donatello and finally to the closed door that blocked Donatello and Michelangelo's room. The door was splattered with colourful paints and markers, swirls and shapes marking the wooden panel, a stark difference to Leonardo's and Raphael's door that was covered in scratches from when Leonardo used to lock his younger brother out as a joke. 

"He's been sleeping in his lab because he doesn't want to see Mikey's bed," Raphael continues to explain, muscles twitching as he holds Donatello tighter, "... we could all sleep in the pit tonight." 

Leonardo tilts his head at Raphael's idea, "you want to do a turtle pile?" Leonardo couldn't remember the last time they did that, it was something they had grown out of ages ago. A fuzzy image of crowding around Michelangelo when he came down with the flu struggled to the surface of Leonardo's memories. His youngest brother had come down with an intense fever that made him hallucinate and panic, calling for his brother's every night out of fear that one was missing. Every night they slept in the pit until his fever broke and Michelanglo stopped having nightmares. 

Leonardo came down with the same feverish hallucination and flu a few days after, however he didn't request the same treatment. At the time it felt like an act of weakness, but now he desperately wanted to go back. 

Raphael shifts awkwardly on his feet before nodding, "I promise I won't sneak out," he mutters. 

"Good, because if you do I'll hunt you down and make you do katas until you pass out," Leonardo warns, turning away to climb up the stairs to the second floor, Raphael muttering something to his retreating shell. 

They lived in what Leonardo assumed was an old sewer service hub. The second floor was home to offices and maintenance rooms, the largest converted into Donatello's lab, which was glowing through the cracks in the door. Leonardo frowns, opening the door to see the computer still on, the massive screen showing camera feeds from all over New York. The date had been marked back two weeks, Leonardo reaching over to turn the screen off, the whirring sound from the computer dying down slowly. The lab was a mess, and once the screen was off it was plunged into darkness. Long shadows stretched towards the ceiling, distorted shapes of half finished machinery leering towards the intruding turtle. Leonardo made a mental note to clean up the place later, eyes falling on a dirty plate and half filled cup of coffee. 

The next room belonged to Raphael and Leonardo, the floor was a tripping hazard, most of which was Raphael's fault. Leonardo nudges a rusty, broken sai out of the way before collecting the pillows and blankets. He made another mental note to clean up their room- slowly it was becoming a list. He would get his brother to put away the old weapons and wash the dirty bandages, but that was something to argue about in the morning. Leonardo rests his forehead against the top of the bunk bed, Raphael's name etched in with messy writing from when they were kids. The e was backwards, something Raphael still had problems with some days. He closes his eyes just for a second, trying to sum up the courage to get Donatello's stuff. 

Splinter's room was at the end and strictly off limits, but in the middle was another room that had wordlessly become impenetrable. Leonardo doesn't remember walking over and he definitely doesn't remember opening the door and entering the suffocating room. The room was slightly cleaner than his and Raphael's, Donatello poking at his younger brother to clean up his stuff on the rare nights he slept there instead of in his lab. Blueprints hung above Donatello's bed, corners peeling downwards due to the gravity, but Mikey had dominated the remaining walls. Layers of paint had accumulated over the worn brick over the years, Mikey designing an image only to paint over it with white when some new concept occupied his mind. Apparently graffiti had been his median the past few days, his brother's names spray painted on the wall in neon colours with lines and circles to fill in the remaining spaces. 

Leonardo sucks in a breath when his eyes fall on the wall across from the door, his name in blues and whites. It was only half done, the last three letters missing with the cans still open at the bottom. Leonardo turns away quickly, grabbing the purple blanket on Donatello's bed and planning to leave right away. However, he finds himself staring down at Mikey's bed, the orange cover neatly tucked in. It's in his hands before he can question it, closing the door behind him softly. 

A hollow feeling enters his chest once he leaves the room, Leonardo closing his eyes to draw in a shaky breath. Opening them again, he sees the pit through the staircase railing, Donatello laid out on one of the couches. Leonardo stiffens, not seeing Raphael anywhere. Did he actually leave? He said he wouldn't, but that wouldn't be the first time he bluffed. 

"You were in there for 10 minutes by the way," Raphael states, Leonardo jumping from the surprise, "shit, you must be really tired if I managed to sneak up on you," Raphael observed, the tan wraps he and Donatello usually wore in his arms. He gestured down to Leonardo's shin, his own grey wraps still on, "I'm washing our wraps and masks, I'll take yours once you get them off. You should probably get Donnie to disinfect the cuts too. I'm not sure if I did it right." 

Leonardo tilts his head, noticing the bitter tone hidden in Raphael's words, "yeah, the racoons were really aggressive last night." Raphael's shoulders relax at his words, a mutual understanding between them that the attack last night would remain a secret between the pair. What Donatello didn't know wouldn't hurt him, "what happened to Dee?" 

"Do you want me to call you Lee now?" Raphael mutters back darkly, brushing past Leonardo to dump the wraps in the tub to soak. 

Leonardo rolls his eyes as the sound of the tub filling echoes in the spacious home, almost wishing that Raphael would call him the old nickname. It reminded him of being kids again, when the only pressure in the world was just making sure Donatello didn't set the lair on fire with one of his toys. Leonardo goes back down the stairs, careful to avoid tripping on the blankets. He pulls out the cushions on the couches surrounding the TV, making sure to avoid jostling Donatello. After that he adds the pillows, essentially turning the circular hole into one large bed. Leonardo was worried that if he sat down he would collapse, so he made quick work of removing the grey wraps, rolling them up in his hands and placing them neatly on the steps for Raphael to grab. His mask follows shortly afterwards and he raises his fingers to his under eyes, not used to nothing being there. He almost felt naked, he couldn't remember the last time he took it off. 

"I know, it's weird," Raphael agrees gruffly, his mask also missing as he bends down to pick up Leonardo's discarded wraps. When he straightens, Leonardo could clearly see the dark circles against his mossy green skin, the sensitive spikes at the top of his head now exposed, "I'll be back, Lee." 

Leonardo hums in understanding, turning to pick up Donatello and place him on the ground. The smallest turtle twitches at being touched and moved, but settles into the cushions within seconds, burying his face in a pillow and releasing a churr when Leonardo smoothes the wrinkles from his forehead. Donatello completely relaxes at the touch, whatever tension that remained in his bones oozing out of him and burrows against Leo's side, the Ringed-Map being excessively affectionate from the lack of sleep. A blanket flutters down over the pair, the black comforter Leonardo had stolen from his own bed providing them with more warmth. Raphael flops down on Leonardo's other side, red blanket wrapped around his shoulders, a few holes caused by his spiky shell showing green scaly skin and pale scars. There was a second of hesitation before Raphael nudges his head under Leonardo's arm, wiggling himself in between the crack and resting against his older brother's side. Leonardo wordlessly tugs the comforter over to cover Raphael as well, resting a hand on the turtle's flat head to rub the sensitive spikes. A content rumble sounds from Raphael's chest, his emerald eyes already shut as he too falls victim to sleep. 

Leonardo's chest tightens as he looks up at the ceiling. If Mikey was here, he would probably be splayed out across the three of them, ignoring their complaints and kicking Raphael in the teeth to shut him up. A scuffle would occur until Leonardo would separate the two, Mikey sticking his tongue out and Raphael growling back at him, before dropping them on either side of him. Donatello would wedge himself either between Mikey and Leonardo or Raphael and Leonardo- depending on which brother most recently destroyed an invention. 

And Leonardo would take the time to give them each an affectionate pet where they liked it. Donatello's forehead, which was often bombarded by headaches from over thinking and over working, the bases of Raphael's spikes where he was most sensitive and ridge between Mikey's eyes. Leonardo's left hand ghosts air on instinct before he pulls it away to rest back on Donatello's shell. 

_ Right. Mikey isn't here _ . 

Leonardo's beak clicks in frustration, willing the tears in his eyes to go away. He couldn't cry now, not when his brothers needed him to be strong. He would have all the time in the world if they brought Mikey back. 

_ When, not if. When.  _

Exhaustion tugs at Lee, deep in his bones, and his eyes finally slide shut, only one stubborn salty tear falling down his face. 

_ I promise we're coming Mikey. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't we all just love turtle piles


End file.
